CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(Monographs) 


ICIMH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographies) 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


0 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 


□   Covers  damaged  / 
Couverture  endommag6e 

□   Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restaur6e  et/ou  peilicul6e 

I Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

I I   Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  g6ographiques  en  couleur 

r~/|   Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
I — I    Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

I      I   Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material  / 
Relid  avec  d'autres  documents 


n 


n 


Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  edition  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion  along 
interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serree  peut  causer  de 
I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge 
int6rieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have  been 
omitted  from  filming  /  II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages 
blanches  ajout6es  lors  d'une  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  texte,  mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait 
po;-.sible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  6t§  film^es. 

Additional  comments  / 
Commentaires  suppl6mentcires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm6  le  meilleur  exemplaire  qu'ii  lui  a 
6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire qui  sont  peut-§tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modification  dans  la  m6tho- 
de  normale  de  filmage  sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 

I     I  Coloured  pages  /  Pages  de  couleur 

I I  Pages  damaged  /  Pages  endommag6es 


D 


Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Pages  restaur6es  et/ou  pellicul6es 


Q  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
Pages  d^color^es,  tachet^es  ou  piqu^es 

I     I   Pages  detached  /  Pages  d§tach6es 

I  v]   Showthrough / Transparence 

I      I   Quality  of  print  varies  / 


D 


D 


Oualit6  indgale  de  I'impression 

>:-  '^  3s  supplementary  materia'  / 
'  /Tit.  rend  du  materiel  suppl6mentaire 

•:  s  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata  slips, 
iissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  totalement  ou 
partiellement  obscurcies  par  ur.  feuillet  d'errata,  une 
pelure,  etc.,  ont  6t6  film6es  h  nouveau  de  fa^on  k 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 

Op;.  ,sing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
diSv-olourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant  ayant  des 
colorations  variables  ou  des  decolorations  sont 
film6es  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la  meilleure  image 
possible. 


This  Item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below  / 

Ch  document  est  fllme  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqui  ci-dessous. 


10x 


14x 


IBX 


12x 


16x 


20x 


22x 


26x 


30x 


24x 


28x 


J 


32x 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filmii.g  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ••  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  mey  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


1 

2 

4 

5 

I'axAmplaira  fWmi  fut  reprodtit  grace  i  la 
gAn4rosit6  da: 

Biblioth^que  Rationale  du  Canada 


Las  images  suivantes  ent  ixi  reproduces  avec  la 
plus  grand  soin.  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
da  la  nettot*  de  rexemplaire  film*,  at  en 
confcrmit*  avec  las  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmaga. 

Las  exemplairea  originaux  dont  la  couvarture  en 
papier  est  imprim«e  sont  film*s  en  commencant 
p»r  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derni*re  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  las  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmis  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  una  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  at  en  terminant  par 
la  derniire  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
derniire  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE".  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN  ". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent    tre 
film*8  i  des  taux  da  reduction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  etre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA,  il  est  film*  A  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  k  droite. 
•t  d«  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n^cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m<kthode. 


2  3 

5  6 


MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1^ 

156 


Z8 

3.2 


13.6 
IS 

■  4.0 


2.5 

12.2 

_Z0 
1.8 


A     ^IPPLIED  IM/1GE 


Inc 


16f'3   East   Main   Street 

Rochester.   Ne*  York         14609       USA 

(716)    482  -  0300  -  Phone 

(716)    288-  5989  -  Fox 


\J.s 


BIv;KOOT     lOE     .V     OIHERS 


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BiqPOOT        JOE 
And      Others 


{'laments  of  Fancy ,   Written 

Hani-set  in    Type.   & 

Printed  ,   by 


H     BEDFORD -JONES 


Done    At    Lakeport 

MCMXX 


To    The    KING 


Mo«t  Qractous  Sovereign, 

I  beg  leave  to  iq^proach  Your  Royal  Person 
with  an  humble  Offerf r.g ,  glean'd  from  long 
acquaintance  with  Your  Majesty**  subjects. 
A  Work ,  which  owes  it's  Rise ,  it's  Progress , 
and  Completion  to  this  Source ,  is  hence  with 
all  Humility  proffered  to  Your  Sacred  Majesty . 
That  Providence  may  long  preserve  the  bless- 
ings of  Your  Reign  to  this  Profession  and 
Nation,  is  the  constant  prayer  of. 

May  it  pleaise  Your  Majesty , 
Your  Majesty's  most  humble  and  devote^ 
Servant  and  Subject, 

H.  BEDFCRD-JONES 


To  HUMBUG,  Hex  et  Imperator. 


Ii 


CONTENTS 


BIGFOOT      ,0E 

THE     CLEAR      WORD 

THE     NAKED     MAN 

ONE     NIGHT     AT     HEALY'S 

THE     SHEPHERD'S     FAILURE 


BJGFOOT 
lOE 


BIGFOOT    JOE 


In  a  town  of  the  north  there  dwelt  three 
men  apart  from  their  fellows .  One  of  these 
men  was  a  Philosopher,  one  was  a  Poet,  and 
one  was  a  Painter .  These  lived  and  wrought, 
while  all  the  folk  looked  up  to  them  from  afar 
off.  There  was  a  halfbreed  called  Bigfoot  Joe 
who  hewed  in  a  lumber  camp,  so  that  the  folk 
knew  nothing  of  him . 

The  Philosopher  penned  a  mystical  work 
on  the  philosophy  of  the  woods,  and  he  grew 
known  in  the  world .  The  Poet  wrote  stanzM 
filled  with  the  music  of  the  pines  and  cedars , 
and  his  verse  brought  high  wage .  The  Paint- 
er limned  a  single  hemlock ,  instinct  with  tiie 
breath  of  the  lonely  forest;  and  it  found  fame. 
But ,  deep  in  the  woods ,  trees  crashed  down 
and  ;the  unknown  lumberjack  lopped  off  their 
branches . 


Bigfcot 


Joe 


Now  it  so  happened  that  a  certain  Great 
Author,  having  heard  of  the  famcuj  Three, 
journeyed  across  the  seas  to  visit  them ;  for  he 
was  an  unwearied  seeher  after  the  truth  that 
is  in  life . 

The  Artists,  receiving  him  as  a  brother, 
expounded  to  him  the  philosophy  and  rhythm 
and  tonal  harmony  of  Nature;  but  the  Great 
Author  warmed  himself  in  their  steam-heated 
studios  and  said  little . 

One  day  the  Artists  took  the  distinguish- 
ed guest  on  a  visit  to  the  wods .  They  came 
to  camp  in  time  to  lunch  with  the  jacks ,  and 
the  visitor  was  seated  next  Bigfoot  Joe.  Nat- 
urally observant,  he  noted  that  the  halfbrecd, 
coming  from  the  woods  bare-headed ,  flung  an 
expressive  glance  at  the  thich  furs  of  the  Phil- 
osopher . 

During  their  meal  the  Painter  apologized 
for  the  coarse  fare  —  the  beans  and  bread, 
the  creamlcss  coffee;  but  the  halfbrecd  gorged 
hugely ,  and  dranh  his  molasses-sweet  coffee 
with  gusto.  The  Poet  was  disgusted  by  the 
table  manners  of  the  jacks,  fo-  n  bread-fight 
arose  amid  jests  and  curses;  but  ihe  halfbrecd 
deftly  caught  a  crust  and  devoured  it. 

Later,  the  visitors  went  to  the  woods  and 
watched  the  work.      Presently  they  came  to 


Others- 


Bigfoot  Joe;  the  others  would  have  passed  on 
but  the  Great  Author  paused  and  spoke . 

"B'jou/*  replied  the  halfbreed ,  wiping  his 
brow  and  staring  at  the  stranger . 

"Is  the  work  hard?** 

"It  is  my  work  —  I  am  strong,  me!  You 
little  man ,  wear  four  eyes  .**  His  gaze  swept 
in  contempt  over  the  visitor .  "Dis  tree ,  she's 
be  my  brudder ;  she's  be  tall ,  strong  like  me . 
'Bon!*  she's  say.  'You  good  lumberjack,  you 
Joe !' "  And  his  axe  bit  a  deep  chord  of  assent 
from  the  heart  of  the  pine . 

The  Great  Author  perceived  that  here  was 
a  philosopher ,  who  drew  from  the  woods  his 
one  rule :  "Work !  You  are  here ;  so  it  is  evi- 
dent that  you  were  to  be  a  lumberjack  —  but 
be  careful  to  be  a  good  lumberjack!'* 

The  halfbreed  was  a  poet ,  for  he  could 
read  the  secret  heart  of  the  woods  and  make 
response  from  his  ow  n  .  He  was  a  painter  , 
whose  brush  was  the  axe ;  with  that  brush  he 
limned  grert  canviises ,  whose  truth  all  woods- 
men loved  instantly . 

The  Philosopher  groped  after  his  soul ,  the 
Painter  strove  to  express  his  soul ,  and  the  Poet 
tried  to  clothe  his  soul  in  words .  The  half- 
breed ,  caring  nothing  about  soul ,  struck  fire 
from  the  spirit  of  the  Great  Autiicr ,  who  knew 


Bigfoot 


joe 


what  a  plam  thing  the  soul  really  is;  this,  in 
lact,  was  why  he  was  a  Great  Author. 

And  so.  when  he  had  returned  again  to 
his  own  country,  the  Qreat  Author  neglected 
to  wnte  about  the  ftimous  Artists .  Instead , 
he  penned  a  wonderful  tale  about  a  halfbreed 
Indtan,  and  the  world  crie'<  out  in  rapture. 

But  the  three  Artists  bitterly  termed  him 
an  ignorant  fakir. 


I'^sanwM 


& 


Others 


From  the  "Sonnet"  of  Felix  Arvcra 


Within  my  soul  there  lies  a  secret,  thieved 
Eternally  from  Love,  that  knoui*  no  sleep. 
All   innocent   i*    she   wtiwse   n,>me  lies   deep 

Enshrined   upon   my   heart,  nor  has  she  grieved 

Wi<.h  love's  hind  sorrow ;  naught  have  I  achieved 
Though  aluiay  at  her  side.    Thus  shall  I  keep 
My  secret,  while  I  live.     Houi  might  I  reap 

Rewards  unsought,  when  none  can  be  received? 

For  she,  to  whom  God  gave  a  soul  so  tender. 
Goes  calmly  on  her  w?v ,  and  will  not  hear 

The  murmured  homagv  Love  u'ould  gladly;  render; 
So  puve   is  she,   so  quiet    and   austere! 

Scanning  my  lines,   "Who  can  this  angel  be?" 

She   smiling   ashs  —   and   fails   herself  to  see. 


THE 

CLEAR 

WORD 


-1^===! 


THE    CLEAR    WORD 


There  has  been  a  good  deal  of  mysticism 
in  the  public  prints  lately  —  emanations  from 
Point  Loma,  perhaps;  subtle  propaganda. 

They  are  interesting ,  these  men  with  the 
wide  eyes .  They  write  about  a  multitude  of 
things ;  they  are  masters  of  glowing  phrases , 
golden  wordings ,  witchery  of  thought . 

Eternally  invincible  are  they ,  being  very 
nebulous  and  vague .  So  lofty  are  their  ideals 
and  visions  that  never  by  any  chance  can  they 
be  brouf^ht  down  to  concrete  wordings .  Fixed 
in  the  abstract ,  they  leave  to  their  readers  the 
interpretation  of  these  sacred  thought-gems . 

Fine  fluidity  rounds  the  paragr2^>hs ,  and 
a  wizardry  of  poeticism  gilds  the  pages ,  until 
any  central  idea  is  lost  in  dazzled  wonder  at 
the  pyrotechnics .  The  type  of  writing  is  intox- 
icating but  not  tonic .  It  is  impressionistic  and 


Dtgfoot 


Joe 


(C  . 


otun»  a  very  vague  sense  of  philology;  "vers 
Ubre"  is  a  case  in  point.  Art  or  music  may 
legally  convey  impressions ,  but  the  business 
of  words  is  to  convey  thought ;  each  word  in 
the  language  is  an  historical  entity .  When 
words  arc  so  cleverly  conjoined  as  to  orescnt 
only  an  impression .  something  is  amiss . 

Oar  mystics  have  some  central  thought , 
cfr'a:?.  it  across  scores  of  pages,  and  lose  it; 
they  are  style  et  praeterea  nihil .  They  won't 
play  to  the  gallery ,  preferring  the  circle .  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  they  have  no  hope  of  ever 
reaching  the  gallery. 

It  is  the  great  mass  of  our  fiction  magaz- 
ines that  reflect  the  gallery,  the  vox  popuU. 
Magazincdom  is  aligned  in  favor  of  the  story 
related  with  an  artful  simplicity  —  the  clear 
word! 

The  clear  word ;  that  is  the  thing !  The 
forthright ,  honest  word ,  signifying  something 
foursquare  and  definite !  When  Snorri  qiiillcd 
that  great  chronicle,  the  Heimshringla ,  his 
words  f.tted  like  a  mosaic ;  he  left  us  a  perfect 
example  of  the  clear  word . 

A  work  of  literature  creates  a  character , 
then  evolves  it  through  the  stress  of  exterior 
circumstances .  The  magazine  story  takes  its 
character  ready-made ,  evolving  a  plot  through 


& 


Others 


the  ftrcM  of  that  character  tipon  exterior  ctr- 
cum«tanct« .  If  wt  regard  titts  a«  cheapening 
of  a  noble  art,  and  decidedly  infra  dig. ,  then 
recollect  hoiv  our  grandf  ir<«  applied  like  term* 
to  Dumas  and  other  matters . 

The  patt  tiventy  year*  have  here  evolved 
a  type  of  magazine  that  serenely  ignores  the 
ranting  of  the  Elder  Brethren .  It  has  created 
a  writer  as  peculiar  to  this  country  as  is  the 
f euilletoniste  to  France .  These  magazines  of 
fiction  have  filled  a  gap;  and  they  have  been 
eagerly  acclaimed  by  the  reading  public . 

This  reading  public ,  not  being  confined  to 
the  Neu)  England  states  but  being  comprised 
largely  of  hoi  polloi,  does  not  want  character 
studies .  It  wants  a  well-ordered ,  wholly  false 
and  often  absurd  plot-scheme,  progressing  in 
a  straight  line  instead  of  by  zigzag  dashes ,  as 
in  life;  but  it  demands  that  this  plot-scheme 
be  plausible,  intricate  and  fascinating. 

A  new  Action  maganne  makes  its  curtsivy 
by  deploring  these  facts  and  apologetically  djt- 
votes  its  pages  only  to  the  highest  forms  of 
writing.  Stuff!  Why  cringe  to  the  Bder  Bre- 
thren? An  editor  interprets  the  wishes  of  the 
public;  he  is  not  to  suit  his  own  whims,  but 
to  make  money  for  the  owners . 

The  public  Imows  what  it  wants ,  and  will 


Bigfoot 


k^ 


pay  to  0tt  it.  The  mytticf  may  become  the 
oradee  of  neui  cults ,  may  set  about  remakins 
their  oum  petty  worUU  after  their  hearts'  de- 
Mre«:  but  they  cannot  make  a  living  by  the 
quill .  Even  the  mu«ic  critic«  have  come  from 
^eir  misty  pinnacles. 

Simplictty  has  cash  value .  That  is  why 
the  magazines  pay  such  excellent  prices  for 
the  clear  word  —  which  is  the  hardest  of 
all  to  write. 


& 


Others 


LA    CATHEDRALE    ENQLOUTIE 


B«1U  far  and  fin« 
Lo«t   cvcnnort 
To   the  blu«   vky. 
Yet   shll  implore 
And   bid   u*   fly 
The   citicd  roar, 
To   fcek   Cod'*   *hrin< 
And  hold   divine 
The  rich,   dec;'  thing* 
That   men   decry. 
A  bell   that  ring* 
And  echoe*  o'er 
On   angel**   wing*; 
Sweetly   it   *tng*  -> 
"All  life  i*  thine! 
Cive  God  an  hour 
And  feel   Hi*  power 
Steal   far   and   fine 
Like  bellt   aero** 
The   city**  dro**  —  ** 


THE 

NAKED 

MAN 


■Mpi 


THE    NAKED    MAN 


A  Mciion  of  the  Argonnc  tvood  b  feebly 
lighted  by  dtftantftarshelb.  Over  the  mech- 
anical and  !mnian  unreckage  eddiei  the  vapor 
of  poison  0a»;  yet  the  tuio  men  sitting  against 
the  ruined  gun-emplacement  wear  no  masks* 
and  seem  not  to  feel  the  gas.  Onetsahusliy 
chap,  a  marine;  his  left  foot,  gone  above  the 
ankle ,  is  replaced  by  an  ineffectual  tourniquet 
The  other  is  a  c^^tscript;  across  his  breast  is 
a  wide  gash  of  bubbling  red . 

Nearby  lies  a  Qerman ,  bayonet-gashed , 
who  from  time  to  time  opens  his  eyes.  At  his 
hnee  lies  an  empty  U.  S.  A.  cmteen . 

The  Marine:  You  were  a  damn'  fool  to 
give  him  that  bottle !  Not  that  it  matters  to 
us,  only  — 

The  Conscript,  smiling:  You  gave  him 
yours  first! 


i« 


Bigfoot 


Joe 


The  Marine :  Sure ;  I  figured  your»  *ud  do 
u*»  but  uw  should  worry  now!  Say,  Fritzie 
learned  »o«»ethm*  about  fiahtin*  today,  huh? 
The  Conscript :  I  feel  like  writing  a  poem 
about  it;  only  Til  never  write  it,  of  course  — 
The  Marine:  Cut  the  comedy ,  bo !  Say, 
the  way  you  knifed  this  guy  was  one  swell  bit 
o*  work !    After  he  ploughed  you  up ,  too ! 

The  poet-conscript  shivers .  The  German 
opens  his  eyes  wide  and  looks  at  titem . 

TheQmnan:  Listen  —  the  music!  Can 
you  hear  it?  The  Brunhilde  motif;  it  is  the 
valkyr  coming  for  me  -- 

His  eyes  close  again ,  his  head  droops . 
The  Marine :  Plumb  nuts ;  I  bet  he  ain't 
et  a  square  meal  in  a  year !  Say ,  whni  d'you 
figure  on  seein*  next,  bo? 

The  Conscript,  blankly:  Eh? 
The  Marine :  Why ,  we  don*t  swallow  no 
bull  about  fightin*  for  demoaacy  and  goin*  to 
heaven:  everybody  except  the  home  folks  is 
wise  to  that  bunk .  But  where  do  we  land  on 
the  other  side,  hey?  Fightin*  Heinie  won't 
ticket  ui  to  the  pearly  gates,  will  it? 

The  Conscript ,  garing  at  the  curiing  trees 
in  the  mist:  Search  me!  Religion  never  both- 
ered me  much ;  and  just  now  I'm  sorry . 

The  Marine:    Sorry,  hell!    Cut  out  the 


mm 


k 


Others 


regrets .  If  you  hadn't  give  that  guy  your  can- 
teen we  might  ha'  Iztf ted  till  morning . 

The  Conscript :  If  you  hadn't  crawled  to 
help  prop  him  up ,  your  tourniquet  might  not 
have  given  way  — 

Suddenly  startled,  both  men  turn  their 
heads .  Before  them  appears  the  figure  of  a 
man ,  nearly  naked ,  an  open  wound  in  his 
side ;  he  is  regarding  them  attentively . 

The  Marine :  Hullo !  Where  in  hell  did 
you  come  from  —  front  lines  ?  Sit  down  and 
take  it  easy ;  no  Croy  Rouge  nor  nothin'  here 
to  hurry  you .  Got  it  bad? 

The  Conscript:  Here's  an  extra  first-aid 
packet  —  better  stop  the  bleeding . 

The  naked  man  moves  closer ,  but  refuses 
the  proffered  packet . 

The  Naked  Man :  Thank  you ,  brother , 
but  it  would  do  me  no  good . 

The  Marine :  I  guess  you're  right  there . 
Bayonet ,  hey  ?  Jabbed  up  an'  got  you . 

The  Naked  Man :  I've  come  from  inside 
the  German  lines . 

The  Conscript :  Captured  and  got  away , 
eh?   Stripped  off  your  uniform  — 

The  Marine:  What's  your  division?  I  bet 
Liggetf  s  corp's  been  catchin'  hell ! 

The  Naked  Man :   I  am  unattached . 


i^Lt.^f^f.'-ismiamk.Jm-'''-' .a"^  -  .«.'Vk.^' 


I 


ill 


I 


Bigfoot 


Joe 


Th«  Marine ,  feebly  tossing  out  his  mask : 
Take  this;  it  can't  help  me ,  but  there's  gas 

around . 

The  Naked  Man :  Thanks ,  brother .  but 
I  hardly  think  it  would  help  me ,  either . 

The  naked  man  moves ,  to  show  them  his 
wounded  feet.  He  opens  his  hands ;  and  the 
conscript  breaks  into  a  bitter  cry . 

The  Conscript:  By  God!  Crucified  yv^u, 
like  they  did  to  the  Canucks ! 

The  Marine,  pityingly:  Aw,  hell! 

The  German  soldier  opens  his  eyes,  star- 
ing about  in  vacant  wonder. 

The  German :  To  whom  are  you  talking? 
There  is  no  one  here .  Ach .  the  Valkyr  song! 
It  is  drawing  nearer  -- 

The  naked  man  throws  him  a  glance  of 
stem  pity .  Then  he  turns  and  extends  his 
hand  to  the  conscript. 

The  Naked  Man :  Come !  I'll  help  you  - 

The  Conscript ,  smiling :  No  use ,  pard ! 
You  chase  along  —  we're  here  for  keeps. 

The  Naked  Man :  Take  my  hand  and  get 
up!  I've  come  to  take  you  home. 

The  Marine ,  laughing  harshly :  Home ! 

Wtth  a  faint  shrug ,  the  conscript  touches 
the  extended  hand,  grips  it,  and  rises.  In 
his  face  dawns  amazed  incredulity . 


v^rwtMMVBT^sir-^'^B'^  ' 


SriC»i-.y*.  \^'ir- 


Ic 


Others 


The  Conscript:  Qood  lord!  I  believe  I 
can  uialk  after  all! 

The  naked  man  turns  and  holds  out  his 
hand  to  the  marine  in  silent  command. 

The  Marine,  roughly:  Au),  don't  be  a 
fool  —  can't  you  see  I  only  got  one  foot? 
You  guys  chase  along  — 

The  Naked  Man:  I  tell  you,  come!  Put 
an  arm  around  my  neck;  we'll  do  very  well . 
Take  my  hand  and  get  up ! 

Compelled,  the  marine  obeys.  Into  his 
bronzed  face  leaps  surprise  za  he  rises .  After 
getting  one  arm  about  his  helper's  neck ,  he 
pauses  suddenly . 

The  Marine :  Look  here ,  you  ain't  in  no 
shape  to  stand  us  both  — 

The  Naked  Man:  Be  quiet,  brother!  We 
are  going  home ,  and  you  need  not  doubt  my 
strength .  Com-: ,  let  us  go. 

They  start  away ,  the  marine  moving  by 
awkward  hops,  but  moving.  The  conscript 
holds  to  the  arm  of  the  naked  man ,  throwing 
him  sidelong  glances  of  frightened  surmise  — 
and  at  length  checks  himself  abruptly . 

The  Conscript:  I  don't  know  if  I'm  out 
of  my  head  —  no,  no!  Ifs  an  impossibility. 
I'm  afraid  even  to  think  of  it  — 

The  naked  man  smfles.  Behind  them  the 


Bigfoot 


Joe 


German  once  more  open*  hU  eyet  and  look* 
about  in  tuonder. 

The  German:  Where  are  they  flone?  No 
one  \»  here  —  they  were  talking,  yet  I  »ce  no 
one.  I  can  Me  no  one! 

The  naked  man  ca»t»  over  hi»  »houlder  a 
look  of  ineffable  forroui .  From  him  comes  a 

murmur. 

The  Naked  Man :  No .  you  can  «ee  no 
one.  You  cannot  even  mv  ME!  And  that, 
Myou  fhall  come  to  knotu,  is  hell. 


i 


■mJh^i 


& 


Other* 


LES    DEUX    CORTEGES 


Witiitn  tht  church  hue  companit*  arc  mtt. 

The  ont  b  nd  and  bear*  an  infant**  btcr, 

A  woman  foUoivins;  tloiw  attab  the  teat 
On  h«r  palt  check,  twhctt  griaf  hia  math  has  act. 
The  ether,  a  bapciam.    Protecting  arm 

Held  doM,  a  nurac  upbeara  the  prccioua  mite; 

Cornea  the  young  mother,  uihoae  proud  look*  invite 
Praiae  and  allegiance  to  her  baby'*  charm. 
They  chriaten,  they  abaolve;  the  chapcla  deat. 
Then  tite  two  women,  croaaing   in  the  aiale. 

Exchange  a  aingle  glance  at  joining  tiiere; 

And  —  wondroua  .myatety  to  inapire  a  prayer  — 
The  young  wife  weepa  in  ganng  on  tiie  bier. 
The  mourner  throwa  the  newborn  child  a  smile! 


I 


ONE 

NIGHT 

AT 

HEALVS 


"cS^S^^^ 


m.'     'Jt-i     Jf^i^'h  I 


ONE   NIGHT    AT    KEALY'S 


We  recall  many  a  charming  talc ,  dont 
in  the  moft  Lamb-Uk«  ot  ^xtnU ,  reaardtng 
the  rar«  and  curiou*  old  volume*  picked  up  at 
the  farthing  «talU .  Le  Oallienne  ha»  remin- 
uKed  moft  delightfully  and  incredibly  in  this 
fashion,  a*  have  others;  but  I,  for  one,  long 
ago  decided  that  these  degenerate  days  never 
untneMedsudi  discoveries  as  those  recorded 
in  le  temps  jadb . 

Many  and  nuiny  an  hour  have  I  spent 
delving  along  dusty  shaves  in  grimy  shops , 
or  by  the  less  alluring  ways  of  the  spick-and 
•pan,  rebound  and  furbished,  dustless  and 
listed  Olde  Book  Shoppe  uihose  displays  are 
priced  at  their  umght  in  carets.  In  both  have 
I  been  disappointed.  Many  a  catalog  have  I 
pored  over,  only  to  decide  that  aU  catalogs 
are  suppUcd  from  publishers'  remainders  * 


Bigfoot 


)oc 


.  it » 

■    Hi-;  i; 


One  conclude*  that  the  old  book  trade 
M  a  thing  of  the  pa«t ,  at  tea«t  m  f ar  a*  uie 
none  too  affluent  consumert  are  concerned. 
The  dealer*  know  too  mudi  about  tfietr  ware* 
and  are  too  eager  after  exce**  |»rofit» .  They 
fatten  upon  the  rich  manufacturer  who  ceek* 
tcholarly  polish ,  or  the  tcholar  who  ha*  in- 
herited the  price  of  gratification .  If  they  find 
an  Elzevir,  however  mean,  they  placard  it  at 
a  rare  price,  and  await  the  victim  who  think* 
that  all  Elzevir*  are  trea*ure* . 

Once,  indeed,  I  found  a  little  *hop  in 
New  Orlean*,  off  the  touri*t  lane*,  where  I 
encountered  over  a  *core  of  delightful  volumes 
in  French,  filled  with  hand-tinted  plate*,  at 
*ome  very  low  figure.  Ala*!  Ihadiu*tbeen 
entrapped  in  Royal  *treet  and  had  but  little 
money  left.  I  bought  a  number  of  the  *weet 
tooled-morocco  volume*  at  *omc  little  *acri- 
fice,  and  went  my  way.  Later,  in  fund*,  I 
returned  for  the  remainder  of  the  *ct,  only  to 
find  that  a  famou*  playwright  had  di*covered 
the  treasure  —  and  all  were  vanished . 

With  thi*  exception,  luck  wa*  *eldom 
mine .  Old  book  *hop*  were  many ,  bargain* 
few.  From  city  to  city  it  wa*  the  *ame  old 
*tory;  until,  upon  a  cold  and  foggy  night  in 
San  Franci*co,  I  chanced  to  pa**  tiie  forbid- 


Othiers 


ding  and  tfrimy  portal  of  a  thop  kept  by  one 
Healy. 

I  merttly  •ntffed  and  turned  to  catch  a 
jitney;  I  had  come  from  a  survey  of  certain 
doumtouin  shops  and  felt  tiiat  I  had  no  more 
time  to  waste .  Then  I  saw  the  proprietor , 
sitting  in  an  easy-chair  in  his  unndotu ,  whidt 
framed  dull  old  spectacles  within  a  luxuriant 
and  mig^  ty  fringe  of  reddish-grey  whiskers . 
Fascinated,  I  turned  again.  Once  more  to 
try  my  luck !  Hopeless  though  I  knew  it  to 
be,  I  would  still  essay  tfie  impossible  -~  and 
I  entered. 

Truth  to  tell ,  my  entry  was  compelled 
less  by  hope  than  by  that  curious  spectacle 
in  tiie  window .  In  the  doorway  I  came  to  a 
pause,  aghast  before  a  dim  array  of  shelves 
which  at  some  prior  day  had  been  assorted , 
but  were  now  jumbled  and  hesMped  in  a  most 
erratic  madness  of  confusion . 

The  fringed  old  gentleman  in  the  easy 
chair  was  reading  one  of  his  own  books ;  and 
this  was  an  excellent  sign .  He  barely  vouch- 
safed a  grunt  to  my  greeting ,  directed  me  to 
switch  on  the  lamps  and  help  myself,  then 
resumed  his  book  and  a  huge  pipe . 

As  directed,  I  turned  on  the  lights  and 
began  my  explorations .    Already  the  mystic 


Bicifoot 


Jo^ 


alchtmy  of  this  •tage-Mtting  held  me  gripped 
in  a  pleasant  excitation,  a  glouiing  confidence 
that  here  awaited  ungueMed  treasure-trove ! 

MirabUe  dictu !  At  the  very  first  turn 
I  pulled  doum  a  glorious  big  volume ,  newly 
bound  in  half  morocco,  which  proved  to  be 
no  other  than  Dr.  Shaw*«  Traveb  in  Barbary. 
Every  map,  every  letter  and  engraving 
and  page  was  perfect,  even  the  paper  was  as 
chastely  unblemished  as  when  struck  off  the 
press  of  Oxford  University  in  the  days  of  the 
first  George.  The  press-work ,  like  that  of 
the  first  folio  of  Beaumont  &  Fletcher,  was 
a  delight  to  the  eye;  abounding  in  Arabic, 
old-style  Greek,  Hebrew  and  less-remembered 
tongtt<'« ,  it  was  all  as  nobly  *xef  ited  as  if  it 
had  b^cn  drawn  by  hand  and  lithographed. 

A  price  was  penciled  on  the  flyleaf;  it 
would  scarcely  have  amounted  to  taxicab  fare 
home .  I  sighed  over  the  high  insolence  that 
prompto  dealers  to  face  their  customers  with 
the  prices  these  wares  fetched  twenty  or  fifty 
years  ago;  then  I  turned  to  the  fringed  divi- 
nity with  tremulous  query . 

"Everything  marked  plain,"  he  made 
response ,  without  raising  his  eyes  from  the 
book  in  his  lap . 

Ye  gods  and  little  bookworms  —  the 


& 


Othtrt 


dnam  had  com*  tnit !    Or  umm  it  a  ckanct 
M  —  ptihapa  aenM  lurt  to  catch  umvafy 

fctt? 

No  matttr;  unthtn  fivt  minutta  dinntr 
uiaa  forootttn ,  all  ttapenaibiUtita  put  aaidt , 
and  I  luaa  hookad  faat.  Thoac  unordtcad 
•hdvaa  hald  av«fythin0  from  Ruaatan  novala 
to  Frtnch  adtnti^c  trtatiaca,  and  Amaricana 

ran  riot. 

Imagine  a  copy  of  Vcraltua,  that  rara 
^tion  of  aaga-chanta ,  for  fifty  canta;  and , 
no  Icaa  cxpanaive,  a  apanUng  fina  copy  of 
Mma.  da  Qrandforf  a  axacratad  work  on  tha 
Louiaiana  Craolca ,  aarana  in  ita  dingy  binding 
of  ante-ballum  daya!    Hara  ivaa  tha  aort  of 
place  hitherto  found  only  in  romanccra'  talaal 
And  a  littU  old  French  handbook  for 
gardenera,  with  quaintly  tinted  platea;  or  a 
firat  edition  of  Palgrave ,  or  a  hiatorical  work 
from  the  library  of  the  Qarde  Royale  Huaaara! 
Then  the  dii»covery  of  Rii^Mrda'a  mem> 
oira  —  Rtpperda,  that  fine  Hollander  who 
became  a  Spaniard,  wearing  the  collar  of  the 
Golden  Fleece  and  ruling  all  the  wide  reabna 
of  Spain ,  then  paaaed  into  Morocco  and  ruled 
that  land  aa  paaha  —  Ripperda,  who  took 
new  religiona  or  ^miliea  at  will,  but  ruled 
alwaya  until  the  gout  feidied  him  to  a  devout 


Biofoct 


Joe 


Chrbttan  end  —  here  ivftt  the  croiumng  find! 
I  f taggered  home  that  night  freighted 
tuith  treasure .  A  few  day*  later  I  returned , 
uiith  the  intent  of  further  »earch  and  seizure; 
but  thif  time  I  did  not  enter .  I  only  turned 
mournfully  from  the  doorway ,  above  which 
flaunted  the  dire  announcement : 

THIS    PLACE    HAS    CHANGED    HANDS 


i 


MKVTW.  .-9 ' 


St 


Othtr* 


With  a  Branch  of  Semper-vtrsnt 


Unto   the   end   that  age  to   agt  «hall  know 

The  perfect  love  which  Ronaard  gave  in  fee. 
How   your  warm   beauty  laid  cold   reason   low 

And  held  in  fetter*  all    hi*  liberty; 

Unto  the  end    that   age  to   age   shall   ace 
How  your  sweet  face  shrined  in  hi*  life  was  lying , 

How   in  hi*  heart  you   dwelt   eternally  — 
I   Hring   to   you   this   flowered  branch,   undying. 
Which    knows   no   frost  to  sere  its   radiant   spring! 

When   you   are   dead   I   shall   revive  you,    chaste 
And  lovely:   such   the    tribute  that    I   bring. 

Who  in  your  service  find  all  bliss  entbraced! 
Like  Laura,  loved  of  Petrarch,  you  will  live  — 
At  least,   while  books   immortal  life  can   give! 


n 


m 


*K 


THE 

LnTLE 

VISITORS 


THt    LITTLE    VISITORS 


il 


it 


It  wa»  lately  my  good  fortune  —  and 
I  so  tenn  it  advisedly  ~-  to  entertain  a  bud- 
ding Bobhevist  in  my  midst . 

He  was  an  excellent  young  man  and  a 
fellow  uiriter,  who  had  been  discharged  as 
an  officer  of  the  nation's  armed  forces .  Not 
knowing  him  intimately ,  I  invited  him ,  with 
hb  brotiter ,  to  spend  a  part  of  the  summer 
in  a  cottage  which  I  maintained  9»  an  office . 

In  due  time  the  twain  arrived  and  were 
heartily  welcomed ,  They  were  made  quite  at 
home  in  my  studio ,  which  was  furnished  to 
my  own  fancy  with  books ,  rugs ,  tools  of  the 
trade,  rare  and  curious  objects  from  foreign 
parts,  and,  what  occasioned  much  interest, 
an  amount  of  correspondence  filed  away . 

t    This  final  title  has  been  altered  since  the  printing 
of  the  Table  of  Content*. 


Bigfoot 


Joe 


n 

i 

if 

ft 


The  young  gentiemen  made  A«ii:»»«lve» 
very  much  at  home,  and,  in  the  courte  of  a 
few  day»*  intimacy,  confetted  to  a  boyishly 
intense  sympathy  uiith  the  Bobhevihi.  They 
reveled  in  a  uihite-coUar  abstinence,  oblivious 
that  the  hated  uniforms  were  vastly  more  be- 
coming than  their  fwesent  garb,  and  tooh  a 
keen  delight  in  tearing  to  shreds  the  integ- 
rity  of  the  press  and  the  administration.  One 
must  admit  that  the  latter  was  rather  silly ; 
but  to  think  the  press  of  the  world  in  a  vast 
conspiracy  of  lies  against  Lenine  et  al.,  sav- 
ored too  much  of  a  de  Quincy  phantasy. 

Political  creeds,  of  course,  could  not 
mar  the  pleasure  of  the  visit .  But  in  course 
of  time  it  gradually  dawned  upon  me  that 
my  guests  were  rather  exacting  in  their  way 
of  taking  things  for  granted . 

They  acquired  a  happy  f  acul^  of  lett- 
ing  me  run  their  errands,  or  of  utilizing  my 
services  as  chauffeur.  The  only  argument 
against  this  was  its  matter-of-course  air.  I 
presume  that  the  Bobheviki ,  like  the  Arabs , 
feel  any  expression  of  gratitude  to  be  unwor- 

thy  them. 

Still ,  this  was  but  a  small  cavil  against 
great  writers  —  men  of  genius  who  had  acc- 
omplished high  things  in  their  profession  and 


'm'^mm 


& 


Oth«r» 


tpera  attaining  a  worthy  place  in  literature ! 

It  uias  uiith  come  misgiving*,  hotvcvert 
th4t  I  observed  certain  very  odd  tendencies ; 
such  as ,  for  example ,  plying  the  gentle  arts 
of  Munchausen  upon  the  diespised  caste  of 
editors. 

When  one  delicately  hinted  that  this 
might  hardly  be  considered  as  strictiy  etfiical, 
the  notion  uias  greeted  with  roars  of  scorn- 
ful laughter.  Etitics  were  individual  things 
entirely ,  much  beneatit  the  consideration  of 
free  artists .  And  what  was  an  editor  com- 
pared with  one  who  wrote  literature?  Less 
than  tiie  dust! 

Hotvever,  the  suggestion  titat  it  was 
the  editor  who  wrote  thi  'Seeks ,  proved  to 
be  sobering  —  amazingly     obering. 

The  days  wore  breezily  on,  with  much 
writing  and  earnest  endeavor ,  and  much  dis- 
cussion of  why  no  man  in  the  writing  game 
today  deserved  the  place  he  held ;  that  is,  no 
man  at  the  top .  One  or  two  had  some  facil- 
ity ;  a  little  plot ,  perhzq^s ,  a  gift  of  words ,  • 
lilt  to  paragraphs  —  but  thb  was  "all  tticy 
had."  The  heroic  dead ,  happily ,  possessed 
virtues. 

There  began  to  be  a  Bolshevik  atmos- 
phere about  ttie  place ,  a  vague  and  unsatis- 


f=! 


Bigfoct 


Joe 


•  1' 


ii 


fied  air  of  much  begun  and  little  fini»htd . 
Oddly  enough,  my  frien'^    'were  uiorhing  on 
anti-red  propaganda;  -  cc*  -nt  work,  too.  if 
it  did  come  but  tlouily .    Curiou*  hou»  antipa- 
thy to  white  collar*  »eem»  to  involve  in  it» 
anathema  all  form*  of  hard  labor ! 

The  visitor*  found  the  country  lonely . 
One  evening  I  dropped  in  unexpectedly  at  the 
cffice ,  and  my  pretence  seemed  to  excite  an 
odd  embarra»»n»ent.    It  developed  that  my 
friemb  were  giving  a  party ,  k)  of  cour»e  I  at 
once  withdrew  gracefully . 

Some  time  later,  a  young  man  about 
town  informed   me,  grinningly.  that  th«n 
letter*  I  got  from  editors  were  futtinly  nch ! 
Upon  inquiry  I  found  that  my  gue«te  kindly 
elucidated  the  art  of  writing,  to  their  local 
acquaintance,  by  mean*  of  my  correspond- 
ence. _. 

Nor  did  they  deny  the  matter.    They 
were  •©  puztled  at  my  objection*  that  anger 
could  not  exUt;  .ince  I  did  object,  of  cour*e 
it  would  occur  no  more.    In  the  face  of  w 
charming  a  »implicity.  what  could  the  ruffl- 
ed cour*e  of  ho*pitelity  do  but  resume  the 
even  tenor  of  it*  way?  ......    . 

But  Uttie  thing*,  a*  i*  their  habit ,  m 
time  grow  onerou*.    Around  the  book*,  Ihe 


& 


Others 


rare  and  curious  objects,  the  uirittng  tools, 
climbed  filth  and  sqtialor  unbelievable.  In 
despair,  seeking  the  kindliest  way  out  of  the 
impasse ,  I  wa*  summoned  away  for  a  month 
or  so.  Not  without  sorn^^  misgivings  —quite 
justified  by  events . 

When  I  returned  to  the  office ,  I  f ounu 
tfiat  my  guests  had  departed .  So  had  many 
of  my  books  and  things.  In  their  stead  re^ 
mained  castoff  raiment  and  much  misplaced 
matter. 

I  have  now  adopted  the  firm  rule  of  in- 
variably  inquiring  into  the  politics  of  a  friend 
before  erecting  him  into  the  status  of  a  guest 


JI 


Sonnet    au    Ltctcur 


I  haiUd   you,  reader,  after  ancient  uiont. 

Crying  "Bonjour!"  upon    my  (ir«t  fair  pao*; 
aoM*  my  book  in  type  of  gloomier  font  — 

For  we  are  come  into  a  periloua  age. 

Gone  are  the  golden  day*  of  merry  wage, 
Of  nympht  and  Uughing  god»,  of  king*  who  smiled, 
Of  Mbcr  men  who  jeered  me  for  a  dUld, 

Of  merry  foob  who  jeered  me  for  a  sage. 
In  factioned  ttrife  our  irouWed  time  ia  veiled. 

Our  poet*  Mng,  witit  politic*  inflamed: 
Yet  »hall  I  not   be  counted  to  have  failed 

If  you,  who  read  me,   read  me  once   again! 

And  if  two  word*  my  wicdom  may  contain. 
Let  them  be  Joy  and  Folly,  unashamed! 


HERE     ENDS    THE     BOOK 

BIOFOOT    JOE    &    OTHERS 

HANDSET    &    PRINTED     BY     THE 

AUTHOR    AND    THIRTY    COPIES 

DISTRIBUTED      PRIVATELY 


From    The    Same    Pr«M 


Verf« 

RGS    &    THISTLES 
FRUIT    BEFORE    SUMMER 
GATHERED    VERSE 
CORN    WINE    8c    OIL 

Pro«e 


THE    MYTH    WAWATAM 
L'ARBRE    CROCHE    MISSION 
SAN    JUAN    CAPISTRANO 


